Something Like Treasure
by marinawings
Summary: When Ben and Riley set out to find Revolutionary War gold, they become involved in much more than they bargained for. With Abigail and redheaded newcomer Rachel in tow, they find more than just gold. This includes danger and romance. RileyOC, BenAbi.
1. Treasure Again

My first National Treasure story! Special thanks to daisyduke80, my beta reader. And to my dad for being such a history guy. He'd better read this now.

CHAPTER ONE

The air was bitingly cold, and the sky was a solid sheet of gray. Riley Poole shivered as he looked up, searching for any sign of sun. Finding none, he shrugged, cursed his luck, and went back inside. Naturally, the sky would be overcast with snow clouds on the day when he decided to experiment with a solar-powered laptop.

"Big shocker," he muttered to himself, closing the door behind him. He slipped into the tiny kitchen of his apartment and began searching the cabinets for hot cocoa mix. "I know it's in here somewhere," he berated himself, banging cabinets opened and closed. "It's_ got_ to be."

Just as his slender fingers were closing around a packet of cocoa mix, the doorbell rang. Riley groaned and hurried to the door, rolling his teal-blue eyes. He was out of luck… And had been so for some time. Sighing, he opened the door. He could not help but smile when he saw his best friend standing on his doorstep.

The look on Ben Gates' face was one Riley knew well.

"There's another treasure out there, isn't there?" said Riley, leaning on his front door with a sigh. "What is it this time?"

"Tory gold," said Ben excitedly.

Riley was silent, frowning.

"Tory gold, Riley. Don't tell me that doesn't mean something to you." Ben narrowed his eyes on his friend.

"I thought friends were supposed to be honest with each other, Ben," said Riley dryly. "And here you are asking me to lie to you."

Ben just stared at Riley for a moment, then asked, "May I come in?"

"Oh. Yeah. Sure." Shrugging, Riley stepped back, holding the door open for his best friend. "Take a seat. I suppose I don't have to ask you to tell me about this 'Tory gold,' whatever that's supposed to mean."

Ben crossed the small, slightly cluttered living room to plop on the comfy blue sofa. "Tory gold, Riley. Tories as in Loyalists, Riley."

"Oh. I thought you meant Tories as in actresses by the name." Riley had to smile slightly at his own cleverness.

"Riley."

"Sorry." Riley crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall. "I'm all ears… Plus the usual human body parts."

Ben ignored the sarcasm and leaned forward, clasping his hands in front of him. "During the Revolutionary war, those loyal to the crown were called Loyalists… or Tories."

"Gotcha." Riley settled into his favorite piece of furniture--an oversized burgundy recliner with armrests big enough to accommodate even the most archaic laptop. "Continue."

"Naturally, since the Patriots won the war, Loyalists got displaced from positions of power," Ben explained in that matter-of-fact, this-is-history, I'm-Ben-Gates voice with which Riley was all too familiar.

"Naturally."

"Just say you are a really rich guy, and these other guys are throwing you out of power," Ben continued. "What do you do?"

"Ah. I get it." Riley tried not to grin, but anticipation of adventure proved to be too much for him. He grinned. "They hid their treasure."

"Their _gold_, Riley," said Ben, his eyes intense. "Some of them managed to hide away their _gold_."

"So… any idea where they hid it?" asked Riley eagerly.

"Well." Ben leaned against the back of the couch and reached into his tan-colored jacket. Slowly, dramatically, he drew out a yellowed piece of paper. "I have this."

"What is it?" asked Riley, leaning forward.

Ben grinned suddenly. "You're going with me, aren't you?"

"Ben. What is it?"

"It's a letter." Ben stood and stretched his lanky frame, crossing the room to hand to letter to his friend.

Riley took the paper slowly. It was slightly yellowed, and the handwriting was flowery and elaborate. "How old is this?"

"1935. Read it."

_Dear Ruby, _the letter read. _I've discovered some sort of family secret in my attic, and I was wondering if perhaps you could help me with unlocking it. I found a letter. It's a very old letter, from 1777. It seems that one of my ancestors was a Loyalist during the Revolutionary War. His name was Richard Cunningham. Before the rumblings of revolution began--_

Riley looked up and grinned. "This person is clever. Rumblings of revolution… That's got a nice ring to it. Nicely alliterated."

"Just read it, Riley."

"Sorry."

_Before the rumblings of revolution began, he persecuted any who dared speak against the crown. He amassed quite a collection of treasures--_

"Treasures." Riley grinned once again. "Of course."

_--treasures stolen from those who would soon come to be called 'Patriots.' When the revolution began, he hid the treasure and left clues for his descendents. I suppose no one took his treasure very seriously, because… Well, Ruby, I think it's still there. Let me know if you're interested in a treasure hunt. Naturally, we'll start our search in TONS. Looks like old Richard left some clues there, in the 'city set upon a hill' in the PM. You know where I mean. It's where we went for that revival meeting last summer. Write back as soon as you get this letter. _

_Your best friend,_

_Ruth Decker_

Riley looked up at Ben with raised eyebrows. "This is very vague. I hope you have more clues."

Ben reached into his jacket and drew out another folded piece of paper. "Second letter from Ruth to Ruby."

"Ah. Good. So… Why would the treasure still be there? Looks like these two ladies were gung-ho about retrieving it."

Ben produced yet another paper. "Third letter."

Riley grinned. "So it's on."

Ben smiled back. "It's on."

* * *

Abigail Chase Gates awoke groggily from sleep and rolled over on the enormous king-sized bed to reach for her husband. Her fingers met with air, and she sat up quickly, narrowing her eyes on the empty space where her husband should be.

"Ben Gates, don't _do _this to me!" she muttered. _Not now, Ben. Please not now. _She needed him near her, had to speak to him, had to explain what was going on with her. He was obviously no mind reader, because once again, he had left on some crazy mission without warning. It wasn't any use searching for a note. She knew she wouldn't find one.

With an irritated sigh, Abigail fell back against the pillows.

* * *

Rachel lightly pressed her finger down on the yellowed ivory key. She smiled in pleasant surprise as a clear note sang through the basement of the church. The antique piano was in better shape than she had thought. Delighted, Rachel sat carefully on the piano bench, nearly sliding across it on the dust.

Shaking her long, wavy red hair back from her face, she settled her fingers on the keys. The ivory was cool under her fingers.

She couldn't help it. She had to play. Swiftly, fluidly, her fingers danced across the keys. First, she played a melody from one of her favorite movies. Next, she played a selection of Beethoven. Finally, she began to play a song of her own composition.

Just before she reached the climax of a song, there was a loud, dissonant ring from inside the piano. Eyes widening in worry, Rachel stopped playing and quickly stood. She moved around the piano to where the lid was opened and peered inside.

To her surprise, there was something stuck between some of the strings of the piano, something that had not been there before. Overcome by curiosity, Rachel reached into the piano. Her slender fingers closed around a soft paper package.

* * *

Riley's fingers flew over the keyboard, and his blue eyes squinted at the screen. "Three containers large enough for 2 metric tons…" He sighed and looked to Ben. "Nope. Not it."

Ben sighed as well, frustrated. "So there's nothing?"

"Nothing," Riley consented. He leaned back in his desk chair and raised an eyebrow at his best friend. "Maybe we should bring your wife in on this one, Ben."

"No." Ben shook his head. "Let's not. I want…" He sighed again. "I kind of wanted this to be a surprise for her, you know?"

Riley grinned crookedly. "Great idea, Ben. I can see it now. 'Hey Abigail, look at this cool treasure I found… _Without _you.' That will be a true Hallmark moment. Especially the part where she knocks the crap out of you."

Ben rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "You have a point, Riley…"

"Riley's got lots of those," said Riley with a wry smile. "I'm practically a star."

"Well keep googling 'tons,' Twinkles," Ben said, slapping his friend's shoulder. "I'm going to get some hot cocoa. Maybe a little sugar will loosen up the brain matter." He paused between living room and kitchen. "And hey… Can we keep this from Abi for just a little while? I have my reasons."

* * *

Three hours later, the sun was setting, and Riley and Ben had yet to discover the meaning of TONS.

"I'm guessing the 'T' stands for the word 'the,'" said Riley with a dry expression. "But that's just my opinion."

"Good work, Riley. Now you need to figure out the rest of the letters." Ben rolled his eyes.

Riley rubbed his eyes wearily. "Ben, I have a life outside figuring out your puzzles for you."

"Like what?" asked Ben with a raised eyebrow.

Riley declined to respond. Ben's words stung. Riley just shook his head and stared down at the letter on the desk.

"Wow. That was… I'm sorry man," said Ben, wincing at his own words. "You--you've got your book, right?"

"Yes. I've got my book." Riley met his friend's eyes evenly. "Which you haven't read."

"I started it," said Ben defensively. "The other day while I was waiting to give a lecture on the state of Pennsylvania--" His eyes suddenly widened. "That's it, Riley! It's a state!"

"What? What?" Riley cried, his frustration lost in the enthusiasm of the moment.

"TONS. T.O.N.S. The Old North State, Riley."

Riley grinned. "North Carolina." Then he frowned. "But how do you know?"

"Because PM stands for Piedmont, the central region of the state. Look up a map of the Old North State for me, will ya?"

"That second letter mentioned a church, didn't it?" Riley asked, nimble fingers flying over the keys.

"Stony Grove Baptist," Ben said with a nod.

"And it's in a city set upon a hill…" Riley narrowed his eyes on the computer screen. "This should take just a--Aha!" He turned to Ben with a triumphant smile. "There we have it!" he declared, pointing to a dot on the screen. "Albemarle, North Carolina, the county seat of Stanly County… Just happens to be set upon a hill."

"Great!" Ben stood and began gathering the letters. "Let's go!"

"You mean… Now?" Riley raised an eyebrow at his best friend. "Ben…"

"Riley."

Riley sighed. "Fine. I'm in."


	2. Piano Is Her Forte

Thanks to my reviewers: to my betareader, daisyduke80, my Heroes buddy, GreenLeoFiend, and BandGeek5407 for a review that really made me smile!

Here goes!

CHAPTER TWO

Albemarle, North Carolina.

"So… What is it with this town?" Riley remarked, looking up from his laptop and squinting out the window at passing buildings.

"What do you mean?" Ben asked.

Riley hid a smile as he met his friend's… sunglasses. The sunglasses were big, black, and totally FBI. "Uhm… Are those Sadusky's? I could swear I saw those glasses on the face of an FBI agent like a few months ago."

It didn't take X-ray vision for Riley to see that the eyes behind the thick black lenses were glaring.

"Uh… Sorry. Anyways…" He cleared his throat. "About this town. It's weird, man."

"Weird." Ben slammed on breaks to avoid hitting the Crown Victoria that pulled out in front of his sedan. "Define 'weird,' Riley."

"I don't know how to explain it." Riley shrugged. "It's like… Mayberry meets Chicago. See that? See that?" He pointed to a strip mall the left side of the road. "There are two bars in that shopping center. And right over there…" He pointed to the right. "Two churches--a Baptist and a Methodist."

"So?" Ben raised his eyebrows.

"So it's kind of weird," said Riley.

"Every town's like that, Riley," said Ben patiently, as if speaking to a curious child.

"And here we have a massage parlor--all fancy and contemporary--right across the road from Billy Jo's Barbecue." Riley shook his head. "Weird."

"It's all part of the dichotomy of the South," said Ben, slipping into his history expert voice. "Just read any southern writer--Faulkner, Welty, O' Connor--and you'll see that--"

"I'm seeing it now, Ben. Thanks."

* * *

"So here it is. Stony Grove Baptist Church." Ben pulled the gray sedan up to the curb next to the church. It was one of many churches in the downtown area of Albemarle. From its steeple, one could probably look down and see the rest of the town laid out below. "City set on a hill," Ben muttered.

"_Church_ set on a hill," said Riley, looking up at the tall, narrow steeple. "Somehow, I was expecting a grove. With rocks in it."

"Come on," said Ben. He pulled the keys from the ignition and slid out of the car, keeping his eyes on the beautiful, Gothic Revival style church.

As Riley followed suit, his cell phone started to ring. "Go on, Ben. I'll catch up!" he called to his friend. Then he flipped open the phone and answered, "Hello?"

"Riley! Is Ben with you?"

Riley grinned slowly. Boy, was Ben in trouble! "Hello, Abigail. I'm fine, thanks. And yes, Ben is with me."

"Where _are _you? Treasure hunting or something? I can't get him to answer his phone." Irritation laced the Declaration Lady's voice.

"Do you want me to have him call you?" Riley asked.

"You'd better!" Abigail snapped. "Or else!"

Click.

Riley frowned. Something was really bothering Abigail Gates… He turned and waved to Ben, who was mounting the church steps. "Hey, Ben. That was your wife."

"I'll call her later," said Ben.

Riley rolled his eyes. Ben and Abigail were nothing but trouble. Swiftly, Riley pocketed the phone and hurried to follow his friend up the steps. "She sounds… angry, Ben."

"I'm not surprised," said Ben with a sigh, pausing at the double doors of the church.

Riley narrowed his eyes on his friend. "Ben… What's going on with you two?"

"It's complicated," said Ben sheepishly. "It's just that--" He raised his eyebrows abruptly. "Listen to that."

Riley listened. And smiled. "Hey, whoever that is--" He wagged a finger at the doors. "They're pretty good. If my memory serves me correctly… That's Beethoven, isn't it? The 'Moonlight Sonata' or something."

Ben's eyes widened. "Very good, Riley. I didn't--I didn't think you liked classical music."

"All of it? No. 'Moonlight Sonata?' Yes." The younger man closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. "Just listen to that!" His eyes flew opened, and he stared up at Ben as a terrible thought hit him. "Ben… We're not going to… destroy their piano or anything, are we?"

"Like it says in the letters, we're just going to play it," said Ben soothingly.

"Good," said Riley with considerable relief. He reached for one of the shiny brass door handles. "So… We goin' in?"

* * *

As soon as she hung up the phone, Abigail Chase Gates sighed heavily and leaned her forehead against the wall, not sure whether to scream or cry. Or maybe both. She opted for sliding down into her favorite armchair, crossing her arms, and imagining all the ways she could injure her beloved husband.

She _needed _him right now, needed him desperately. He had no idea what she was going through. "And that's probably because you didn't _tell _him, Abi," she muttered to herself, suddenly aware of how badly she was handling the situation. "Well Ben is handling it badly, too!" she declared to the thin air.

She sighed. "And it's up to me to make this right." She stood and grabbed her purse and cell phone from the coffee table, determined to find her husband.

* * *

Light streamed through the stained glass windows, illuminating motes of dust that drifted lazily through the air. The sanctuary rose to an arched ceiling, from which hung long, dim lights covered in old-fashioned wooden shades. The pews, the carpet, the drapes on the baptistery--all were a soft shade of blue.

And then there was the girl. All Ben and Riley could see of her was a straight, slim back covered by waves of golden-red hair. She was so caught up in the sonata that she had not noticed their entry.

"She's really good," Riley whispered to Ben as they made their way up the aisle. "I feel kind of bad about interrupting her."

"Concentrate on the mission, Riley," Ben whispered back.

"Oh. Right. The mission." Riley squinted through the dim light. "Is that--is that the piano?"

Ben shook his head. "I doubt it. That looks like it's much newer than the one we're after."

"So… Maybe she knows where they keep the other one," Riley suggested.

"That's what I'm hoping," said Ben.

The two treasure hunters reached the end of the aisle, and Ben turned toward the girl at the piano. He cleared his throat loudly.

The red-haired girl's shoulders jerked, and her fingers jumped off the keys, the bittersweet tune ending abruptly. She spun around to face Ben, copper hair floating around her shoulders. "Can I--can I help you?"

"Maybe you can," said Ben with a disarming grin. "The name's Ben Gates. You may know it."

"Yes. I know it." The redhead's expression was impassive. Distractedly, Riley found himself trying to count the faint smattering of freckles that kissed her cheeks…

"Good." Ben's grin widened. "I'm looking for an antique that I think is here in this church."

"In this church?" The girl stood and faced the two men, crossing her arms over her chest. "We certainly have some old things here." Her lips twitched for a moment, as if she were thinking of a private joke. "What exactly are you looking for?"

"Actually, it's a piano," said Ben.

"A very old piano," added Riley.

The girl turned her gaze to him, and there was a brief flicker of something in her golden-green eyes. Riley hoped suddenly and irrationally that it was attraction.

"A very old piano," she repeated. "We have one of those, down in the basement."

"We'd like to see if you don't mind, miss…?" Ben hesitated.

"Collins," said the girl, stretching out her hand. "Rachel Collins." She shook Ben's hand with a smile. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Gates."

Impulsively, Riley stuck out his hand and said, "Bond. James Bond."

Rachel grinned and took his hand. "Don't you mean Poole, Riley Poole?"

Riley grinned back, raising one eyebrow and continuing to shake Rachel's hand. "Telepathic?"

"Avid reader," said Rachel. "Of books, not minds."

_I am going to like you, Rachel Collins. A lot. _Riley could not contain what he was sure was a completely childish smile of delight. "You--you've read my book?" he asked, still clinging to Rachel's long, slender fingers, though the handshake had slowed considerably.

"I own it," said Rachel, slowly slipping her fingers from his. Riley thought he saw a slight blush settle over her cheeks. "I also own a bookstore."

Riley could not resist elbowing Ben. "Hear that? She read my book!"

But Ben was all business. "So… Do you mind showing us this famous piano?"

Rachel raised an eyebrow. "Famous? I'm actually not sure how you even heard about this piano, Mr. Gates. It's been in this church for over a hundred years. In fact, it was forgotten until about two days ago when I found behind all the Christmas costumes."

"Did you play it?" Ben asked eagerly.

"Yes." Rachel seemed amused. "Come with me. I'll show it to you."

* * *

"So that's it." Riley crossed his arms and pushed his glasses up on his nose. "Not quite as dusty as I had imagined but, other than that… classic."

The piano was an ancient grand, made of dark cherry wood. The lid was opened slightly, propped up by some sort of… propping thing. Riley wasn't sure what it was called. And there was an astounding lack of dust on the instrument.

"I cleaned it up a bit," said Rachel proudly, moving to stand beside the piano. "Looks nice, doesn't it?"

Riley looked at her and grinned. "More than nice."

Ben cleared his throat. Riley was sure his friend was probably rolling his eyes, too. "So… Uh… You're an expert on music, Miss Collins--"

"Rachel," said Rachel.

"Right. Rachel. So… Uh, do you think you could help us with this little… puzzle here?" Ben drew a folded up piece of paper from his jacket pocket. "You see, we're on the trail of another treasure. And the trail has led us here, to this piano. And we're supposed to play a tune on it, only…" Ben and Riley exchanged sheepish glances. "Only, neither of us knows enough about music to know what keys to play."

Rachel was smiling that amused, secretive smile again. "Let me see it, Mr. Gates." She held out her hand.

"Ben," said Ben. He handed her the paper.

Rachel quickly unfolded it and began to read. "Oh. This is easy. It's just… E, E, C, D, E." As she said the letters, she inflected each one with its corresponding musical note, giving the sequence a melancholy ring. The little tune was bittersweet, and it clenched at something in Riley's chest. His heart, he thought.

"I know this tune," said Rachel bemusedly. "In fact, I thought I wrote it." She bit her lip and looked from Ben to Riley then back again. "I'm afraid I haven't told you everything about this piano."

Ben and Riley looked at her expectantly.

"I--I already played this tune on this piano," said Rachel slowly.

"And?" asked Ben. "What happened?"

"I found something," Rachel told him quietly. "There was… A click. And I found a package inside the piano."

"What was in it?" Ben asked excitedly.

"A map," Rachel said. She grinned slowly. "A treasure map."


	3. Sometimes There's Danger

Sorry it's taken me so long to update. I'm a slacker, I know. Special thanks to my beta, daisyduke80, for inspiring me to continue, and also to my lovely reviewers who make me smile!

CHAPTER THREE

Ben Gates was frowning when he looked up from the treasure map. Riley knew this wasn't good.

"This isn't the original treasure map," said Ben, still frowning.

"What do you mean?" Rachel asked, peering over his shoulder at the map.

"This map wasn't created in the eighteenth century," Ben explained, holding it up so Riley and Rachel could see it more clearly. "Look at the S's in the word 'Pass.'"

"They look like normal S's to me," said Riley with a shrug.

"Exactly," said Ben, turning to face the two younger people.

"And?" said Riley. "Is there a history lesson here? I'm kind of sensing something of the sort…"

"In the eighteenth century, lowercase S's were written similarly to lowercase F's. And double lowercase S's often were written to look like a lowercase P," Ben explained patiently.

"I knew that," Rachel remarked wryly.

"So when, exactly, do you figure this map was written, Oh Expert of the S's?" Riley asked, pushing his glasses up his nose. This comment earned him a slight smile from the pretty redhead at his side, which made him smile in turn.

"I'd say sometime in the early 20th Century," said Ben matter-of-factly.

"And why would you say something like that?"

"The handwriting is expressive and unique," said Ben. "Look at the way the writer has written his or her capitol H's. Not standard, but very elegant. The retention of elegance puts this paper in the earlier half of the century, I'd say."

Riley raised his eyebrows. "Like 1935."

"Yes," Ben replied. "Like 19--" He grinned suddenly. "Ruth and Ruby."

"Who?" said Rachel.

"Ruth and Ruby," said Riley, taking up the explanation. "Two ladies who wrote letters to each other about the treasure back in the day… back in the 1930s."

"So…" Rachel crossed her arms. "Ruth and/or Ruby made this map… _Not _the original owner of the treasure."

"Right," said Ben. "Which would make sense, because the two ladies went searching for the treasure, but ended up quitting the hunt to travel to France."

"France, eh?" Rachel raised an eyebrow.

"For Robert's health," said Riley matter-of-factly.

"Robert? That's a lot of R's…"

"With my name and your name, that makes five R's," said Riley.

"Robert was Ruby's husband, Ruth's brother," Ben explained. "He was a sickly fella, so the doc told them what many docs were telling people in the first half of the previous century--go to the seaside for your health."

"And Ruth and Ruby never did anything halfway, so… They took the lucky guy to France," said Riley.

"And they liked it so much that they stayed," Ben finished.

"And never came back for the treasure?" Rachel inquired. "I mean, you'd think that they _would_."

"Nope." Riley shrugged. "I guess some things were more important to them than treasure." He grinned, his eyes suddenly distant. "Like a villa with a red tile roof on a beach in the south of France…"

"Hmmm…" Rachel smiled slowly. "That _would _be hard to leave…" Snapping out of her pensive state, she clasped her hands together in front of her and looked from man to man. "Speaking of leaving, let's go to my bookstore-coffee shop, shall we?"

Riley grinned. "Mmmmm… The smell of books, the taste of coffee… How can we refuse?"

Ben looked curiously at Rachel. "How big is your history section?"

* * *

Riley really liked Rachel's bookstore. To begin with, he thought Books 'N' Brew was a nice name, clever and alliterated. And it smelled of books, of all kinds of books--new books, old books, all types of paper and ink. It also smelled of coffee--sweet and heady and warm. The books were neatly arranged by genre, although stacked a bit haphazardly, and the coffee section of the shop was stuffed with comfortable furniture, the walls covered in coffee art.

"I like this Rachel kid," Ben told Riley, approaching him with a big, history-makes-me-happy smile. He held up an armload of books. "History."

"Shocking." Riley smirked and inhaled deeply of his mocha latte. "I figured they might be books about making balloon animals or how to dance the cha-cha."

"We've got those, too," Rachel spoke up, approaching Ben with a steaming cup of something aromatic.

"Why thank-you, Rachel." Ben set his books down on a cherry wood coffee table. He grinned at Riley. "Hazelnut."

"Tasty," said Riley.

"Did you find any books that might help us with our treasure hunt?" Rachel asked, the smooth oval of her face framed by waves of red and curls of latte smoke.

Riley and Ben exchanged glances. _Our_?

"So… you're going with us, are you?" Ben asked the redhead casually.

"Of course," she replied with a smile. "The piano is in _my _church, remember. And I was the one to find the map."

"I think that gives her the right to go with us, Ben," Riley found himself saying.

Ben briefly raised an eyebrow at his friend, then turned to Rachel. "These treasure hunts can be dangerous sometimes," he told her in a low, serious voice. "You may remember reading about some of the dangers Riley and I faced on our previous adventures."

"I do," Rachel replied calmly. "And I'm ready to face such dangers. Maybe I'll even be helpful to you guys in the case of danger."

Riley was seriously impressed. And seriously weirded out when a sudden, intense feeling of protectiveness for this girl swept over him. "I'll--uh--I mean, we--we can all look after each other… then…" He managed not to wince at the awkwardness of his own words--or at the fact that he had been about to blurt out "I'll protect you, Rachel."

Rachel looked at him suddenly, her green eyes alight with perception and… amusement, perhaps? "That's a good idea, Riley," she said quietly.

Riley got the idea then that she knew exactly what he had been about to say.

* * *

From the street outside the shop, the watcher lowered his small pair of binoculars, a slow smile forming across his face. "It looks as if we have a little team forming here, Bill," he spoke quietly into his Bluetooth. "And I'd be willing to bet they have the map."

"Mmm."

The watcher frowned. That was all? Mmm? His boss didn't sound too excited.

"Bill?"

"Did you get anything else out of the preacher?" Bill asked quietly.

"Not much. He gave me a Bible tract." The watcher glanced down at the leaflet resting unopened in his passenger seat. The preacher of the church in which the map had been hidden was a polite fellow, friendly and welcoming. He had even invited the watcher to church, never guessing the watcher's intentions. "Don't think he knows anything about the map."

"But his daughter does."

"Yep." The watcher looked back through the window, eyeing the pretty redhead. "His daughter does."

"Follow her."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

"Take exit 122B onto US 220 South."

Abigail Gates merged the car onto the Interstate, dodging a dump truck and a red pickup. "Trucks, trucks, trucks," she muttered. They seemed to be everywhere in the South--trucks of all kinds. She glanced at the GPS device attached to the dashboard. In about an hour or so, she would be in Albemarle, North Carolina. And there, she would find her husband.

* * *

The motel room was decent, clean, albeit small. It reminded Riley a little of his dorm room back in his college days… especially since his laptop was now sitting on the little table in the corner. That always made things seem right.

A knock at the door jerked his attention away from unpacking, and he hurried to look through the peephole. Ben's familiar face greeted him--solid, serious… historical. Grinning a bit, Riley opened the door. "Aren't you supposed to be bringing pizza or something?" he asked his friend teasingly.

Ben smiled and held up a large, flat book. "This is better than pizza."

"I'm not too sure about that yet, but…" Riley motioned to his room. "C'mon in."

Ben shuffled into the room, instantly heading for the laptop table and setting the book down beside the computer.

"So, what is that book about?" Riley asked. "Wait… Let me rephrase that--What part of _history _is that book about?"

"The Revolutionary War," said Ben, opening the cover of said history book. "And our old pal Richard Cunningham."

"The Tory dude with the treasure?" Riley asked, eyebrows raising.

"The Tory dude with the treasure." Ben nodded, smiling at the younger man.

A sudden, sharp rapping at the door drew their attention.

Ben raised an eyebrow. "Expecting visitors?"

"Well, uh, just--just Rachel," Riley muttered as he headed to the door, not meeting Ben's eyes. "She, uh, she said her dad was gonna look up the history of that old piano… You know, how it got here and all that." His hands fumbled with the door.

"And you neglected to mention this to me?" Ben asked, sounding amused.

"I was gonna--I was gonna tell you. She's--she's early." Riley yanked on the door, and it finally opened.

Rachel stood on the balcony outside it, holding a large, heavy-looking purse tightly to her body, eyes wide.

Riley frowned. "Rachel… Are you okay?"

"I don't know," she gasped out. "Please… Just let me in."

"Gladly." Riley stood aside for her, quickly closing the door behind her. His heartbeat thudded heavily in his chest, burdened with worry. "Is everything alright, Rachel?"

She turned to look at him, still clutching her purse, and shook her head. "I don't--I don't think so."

"Here. Sit down," said Ben, gently taking her arm and leading her to one of the motel chairs.

She sank slowly to the cushions, biting her lip and frowning.

Riley knelt beside the chair. "Rachel… What happened?"

"I think someone was following me," Rachel told him quietly.

Riley frowned, his mind racing.

"Following you?" Ben asked in his low, slow, steady voice.

Rachel looked up at the taller man, nodding. "In a big black car… A Dodge Charger, maybe."

"Did you get a glance at this person?" Ben asked calmly.

Riley wondered at his friend's calmness.

Rachel shook her head, looking down at her lap. "No. But the car kept following me." She looked up, looked from Riley to Ben, then back to Riley, blinking rapidly. "I've lived in this town all my life. I would know if something was weird and out of place… right?" When both men nodded, she continued. "I've never seen this car before. And… Every time I turned down the sidewalk, it turned onto the street behind me. Then it would be gone, and then--then I would see it again." She frowned, quiet for a moment, her face troubled.

"Why would anyone be following you?" Riley asked, still frowning. His hand twitched, itching to take her hand, to comfort her…

"Could this have something to do with the treasure?" Rachel asked, eyebrows raising. Her frown melted a bit, and something made her face almost glow. Excitement?

"We do tend to run into… danger… when seeking a treasure, but…" Ben frowned. "How would anyone know that we're looking for a treasure?"


	4. Big News

Thanks, as always, to my beta, daisyduke80, for always inspiring me to continue! To all my readers--I hope you enjoy!

CHAPTER FOUR

Ben glanced from Riley to Rachel, then back to Riley. "How would anyone know?" he repeated, his frown deepening.

"So… you think the person or persons following Rachel might know about the treasure?" Riley's eyes were wide behind his glasses. Ben could tell how serious the younger man was by the lack of a wisecrack.

"I think maybe so," Ben told him slowly. Why else would anyone be following Rachel? He turned to the red-haired girl, speaking calmly. "Rachel, did they follow you all the way here?"

Rachel shook her head. Her face was pale, and her hands were shaking visibly. "N-no. I don't think so. I didn't see them after I crossed 2nd Street."

Riley gave a short, slightly hysterical chuckle. "For a second there, I thought you were going to say Sesame Street."

Rachel glanced at him with big eyes and a dazed smile. "No… There's no Sesame Street in Albemarle… at least, not that I know of."

Ben managed not to roll his eyes. Young people these days. "What I need you to do is calm down for me. Okay?"

"Okay," said Riley.

Ben shot a glance at his friend. "Not you. Her."

"I can be calm, too," Riley announced, raising his hand.

Rachel giggled… then hiccupped.

Ben winced. He wasn't sure what would happen first--Rachel dissolving into tears or Rachel being overcome by hysterical giggles. Neither one would be helpful. "Rachel, take some deep breaths for me."

"Okay. Okay." She focused on his eyes and breathed deeply a few times.

Ben noticed that Riley's hand had mysteriously strayed to Rachel's shoulder, occasionally patting it comfortingly. He barely contained a grin. Riley was falling hard and fast.

"Better?" he asked Rachel.

She nodded quickly. "Better." She looked up at Riley. "I guess I'm safe now."

* * *

Abigail spotted Ben's car quite by accident. She yanked her own vehicle across the road, narrowly missing a cracked and weedy median, and into the parking lot of the old, but stately-looking motel. She steered her car into the parking space to the right of Ben's car, then sat for a moment, staring at her husband's vehicle.

"What are you thinking, Abi, old girl?" she muttered to herself. "How are you going to find his room, anyway?"

She took a deep breath, the gears of her mind turning frantically, and climbed out of her car, heading for the motel office.

* * *

Rachel was not at all certain what her next move should be. She glanced at Riley and Ben, who were staring at the screen of Riley's computer, their faces illuminated by its glow.

Rachel sighed and took another sip of grape soda from the can Riley had so sweetly offered her. Should she stay with them? Would that be proper? What would her father think…?

"Can you _do _that?" Ben asked suddenly, drawing Rachel's attention to the two men. The taller of the two was looking at his friend with raised brows.

"I can, and I will," Riley replied, still staring intensely at the computer screen, his nimble fingers flying over the keys. He glanced briefly at Ben, his lips tilted in a smirk. "You're probably about to ask me if I _should _do this."

"Well, yeah. I am."

"Ben, we stole the Declaration of Independence." Riley's grin broadened. "Hacking into the DMV can't be worse than that."

Rachel fought down the urge to giggle at that. She had been giggling a bit much lately… Being nervous always did that to her. "Uhm," she spoke up.

Both men turned to look at her.

"I… think I'm going to go outside and call my dad," she told them quietly, reaching into her purse for her cell phone. She hoped she didn't sound like a forlorn teenager. She hoped Riley didn't think her immature…

"Okay," said Riley, smiling a bit at her. "Do you want one of us to go with you?"

Rachel melted inside. Outside, she smiled back at him. "No. No, I think I'll be alright." She stood and started toward the door. "But thanks, Riley."

"We'll be right inside if you need us," Ben told her reassuringly. "Just--just let us know if, uh, if you need us."

_Such gentlemen these treasure hunters are. _Rachel smiled. "Okay. Thanks." She unlocked the door and turned the knob…

…then screamed and jumped back as the door burst open.

Riley and Ben were instantly on their feet, rushing to her side.

"It's okay. It's okay," Rachel assured them shakily, staring at the woman in the doorway. "She doesn't look like an assassin."

"She's not," said Ben, stepping forward. "She's my wife."

"And who is _she_?" the blonde woman asked tightly, nodding at Rachel.

"Uh, Abi, this is Rachel, Rachel Collins," Ben explained, ushering his wife in the door. "She's helping us with the research."

"Oh." Abigail blinked and flashed Rachel a brief, tense smile, then turned on her husband. "So you're letting this girl take part in your little project, but not inviting me along… I see." She crossed her arms and glared at him.

Watching the pair, Rachel imagined lasers shooting out from Abigail's eyes and reducing Ben to smoking ash…

"Laser eyes," Riley whispered from beside her.

Rachel grinned up at him.

"Uhm, do you need to talk to your dad privately?" Riley asked her.

"Not really. I'm just gonna ask him for some advice," Rachel replied. She glanced at Ben and Abi, who looked like two boxers about to take off their gloves. "You can come with me," she told Riley, smiling slowly. "Who knows? I might get scared all by myself."

* * *

Ben worked his jaw as he watched Rachel and Riley make their exit from the motel room. He almost shouted, "Take me with you!" But he didn't. He loved his wife too much, despite the tension that had loomed between them over the last few weeks. He winced, blaming himself. If only he'd spoken with her earlier about what he knew…

"What's going on here, Ben?" Abi asked, jerking his attention into the here-and-now.

"Riley's hacking into the DMV's system so we can try to figure out who owns the car that was following Rachel tonight." Ben shrugged. "The usual."

"Really?" His wife raised an eyebrow. "Exciting," she remarked dryly.

"And also we're looking for a treasure--"

"Naturally."

"--that was hidden around the time of the Revolutionary War. Turns out the map was in Rachel's church's piano, so--"

"So you invited her to come with you."

"Well…" Ben scratched his head. "She sort of invited herself. You see, I think she's kinda sweet on Riley--"

"Sweet on Riley? That's… sweet." Abigail looked away from him then, her face blank.

Ben wished he could read her mind as easily as he could read a history book. But it wasn't happening. "Abigail, we need to talk."

She looked at him sideways. "What a revelation."

"Look." He took a step closer to her. She smelled good… like roses. "I had a _reason _for not inviting you on this… adventure."

"It had better be good," she told him, her eyes narrowing.

"It is. It is." He stared at her, wondering how to say it…

"Spit it out, Ben!" Abi exclaimed impatiently.

"I think I may have figured out what's been… going on with you lately," Ben told her hesitantly, wondering whether he should take a step back…

"What's going on with me?" She frowned in confusion… Then her face lit up with realization. "You mean… you _know_?"

"Yeah." He shrugged, barely containing the sudden excitement rising up in his heart. "You're--"

"I'm--"

"Pregnant," they said together.

Then they stood staring at each other…

Abigail suddenly smiled, her face glowing. "You were trying to protect me."

"Yeah." Ben nodded. "I guessed, and I--I wanted to take care of you, and--"

"Oh, hush, you big, chivalrous idiot!" Abigail flung herself into his arms.

Ben blinked, startled, then grinned, putting his arms around her. She smelled even better close up. "I've even thought of a few names."

Abi laughed. "Historical ones?"

"Do you like Theodore for a boy?"

Abi groaned.

* * *

"Dad, I'm kind of in a bind." Rachel took a deep breath and waited for her father to answer as she stood in the parking lot of the motel.

"What's the matter, Rachel?" her father asked in his deep, calm preacher-voice.

"I'm helping some friends out--some really good guys--and someone has sort of been… stalking me, possibly because I'm helping these guys, so…" She sighed heavily. "I might not be coming home tonight. Do you think it's… okay for me to stay with these… people I'm helping? I mean, one of them is a girl, a woman…"

There was a brief pause from the other end, then Reverend Collins asked slowly, "Does this have anything to do with the men who came to the house asking about the piano?"

Cold fingers of dread traipsed up Rachel's spine. "Men came to the house?" she asked breathlessly. "Asking about… the _piano_?"

"I didn't like the looks of them, Rachel," Collins told her gravely. "They seemed… dangerous."

"Oh, Daddy, I think this might have to do with them," Rachel whispered quickly. "And the piano."

"Rachel, I want you to be careful," Collins said firmly.

"I will, Dad. These friends of mine will take good care of me." She tossed a smile in Riley's direction. What beautiful eyes that boy had…

"May I ask who they are?"

Rachel smiled. Her father had been the one to get her interested in the adventures of Ben and Riley and Abigail. "Uhm… You know who they are. I have one of them's book."

"Huh." Collins' voice was incredulous. "You don't say. My little girl is on a treasure hunt with Ben Gates and company?"

"Uh, yeah." Rachel grinned, barely able to contain her excitement. "Aside from being stalked, it's pretty fun."

"Well just be careful, Rachel," her father told her. "I'm proud of you." His voice softened. "And I'll be praying for you."

"Thanks, Daddy," Rachel replied quietly.

"I'll see if your sister or Aunt Rhonda can look after the bookstore until you get back," said Collins.

"I appreciate it. And hey--I'll keep you updated on our adventures," Rachel assured him.

"I'd like that, Rachel."

* * *

Riley watched from a slight distance as Rachel closed her conversation with her father. She was grinning and pacing, obviously excited, the shock and anxiety from being followed melting away in light of the adventure she was taking. She looked awfully pretty when her cheeks glowed like that…

Rachel snapped her cell phone shut and turned to Riley with a slight smile. "Well? Think the storm has blown over?" She nodded toward the door of the motel room.

"I hope so," Riley said, following her gaze to the green-painted door. "And I hope Ben hasn't been blown away with it." He offered his arm to Rachel in a courtly manner. "Shall we?"

She nodded and slipped her arm through his.

Riley led her between parked cars and toward the door. "So… Is your dad okay with you braving danger with us?"

"Yes. He likes you guys," Rachel told him. Her smile suddenly faded. "Oh! And he said some men came to the house today, asking about the piano. He said they seemed… dangerous."

Riley felt his body tense. "Is he okay?"

"Yeah. He's fine." A pensive frown touched the redhead's features. "I think they're following us now, not him."

The squealing of tires caught Riley's attention, and he looked around quickly, tightening his hold on Rachel's arm. He soon spotted a large black car barreling into the parking lot of the motel.

"Do you think--?" Rachel started, eyes wide, fingers tightening convulsively around Riley's arm.

"No time to think! We gotta get moving!" Riley told her, picking up the pace. "Come on!"

Together, they sprinted toward the door. Riley glanced over his shoulder once. The black car had screeched to a halt, and someone very big and very intimidating was climbing out of the driver's seat.


	5. Enter the Minion

Credit goes, once again, to my beta, daisyduke80, for motivation. And to my readers/reviewers/etc. Enjoy! And let me know what you think!

CHAPTER FIVE

"Oh, Ben. How could I ever have been angry at you?" Abi linked her hands behind her husband's neck and stood on tiptoe to kiss him.

"Well, it's common knowledge that pregnant women tend to be moody, and--"

Abigail cut off Ben's words with another deep, satisfying kiss.

Ben found it impossible to think clearly. "So we're not--" Kiss. "--doing the angry thing--" Kiss. "--anymore?"

Abigail shook her head, giving her husband an Eskimo kiss. "No more angry thing," she told him. Her lips curved in a mischievous grin. "At least not for now…"

Then they resumed the kissing… and got caught up in a beautiful oblivion.

* * *

Rachel's heart was pouding so hard that her chest hurt. Her arm was also hurting, because Riley was running much faster than her and tugging her along behind him. "Riley!" she cried, panting, her voice high-pitched with panic. "I can't--"

"Yes you can, Rachel! Keep running!" Riley called back to her. "We have to --"

Rachel yelped in pain as her other arm was yanked backward. She spun, jerking her hand out of Riley's, and came face to face with the big man from the black car. "Let me go!" she shouted, trying to pry his big, meaty fingers from her wrist.

"Are you the preacher's daughter?" the thug asked with a crooked grin.

Rachel's eyes widened. Who was this man? How did he know who _she _was? And… _Oh, I hope Dad's not in danger!_

"You heard the lady. Let her go!" Riley shouted suddenly. Rachel could feel him standing close behind her.

"I don't take orders from you, little man," the thug told Riley. Before Riley could reply, the man jerked Rachel closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, and growled, "And my orders say you're both coming with me. Make one sound, and I'll hurt the girl."

Rachel shuddered, her world spinning.

"Okay! Okay!" Riley held his hands in front of him, wide eyes fixed on Rachel. "Just--just don't hurt her!" He glanced over his shoulder, toward the door of the motel room.

"Don't even think about warning your friends," the big thug threatened. His voice rumbled like distant thunder in Rachel's ears. She could feel the vibration in his broad, muscular chest. "We're leaving--now." He turned and started toward his car, dragging Rachel along with him.

Rachel glanced behind her, looking to Riley.

Riley flashed her a sickly smile, then followed in the wake of the thug.

_We can't just let him take us… We have to try to escape… _Rachel's eyes darted around the parking lot, looking for any way out of the dreadful and dangerous situation… Her eyes finally rested on the handle of a pistol sticking out of her kidnapper's jacket pocket.

"Yep. I'm packin' heat," the thug informed her, smirking. "Try to escape, and I'll shoot you down--you or the geek boy."

"Why are you doing this?" Rachel asked, her voice leaving her in a tight, anxious whisper.

"Moola, princess," said the kidnapper, rubbing his fingers together. "Where there's treasure, there's profit. It's a no-brainer." He reached into his pocket for a ring of keys and unlocked the big black car with a remote. "After you, little lady." He opened the door of the backseat and stepped back, daring her with his eyes to run.

Rachel hesitated, pressing her hands to her chest as if she could calm the rapid beating of her heart. A chilly wind ripped through the parking lot, lifting her red hair from her shoulders as she looked back at Riley. "Riley?" She felt herself trembling. _I'm being kidnapped… Oh my gosh, I'm being kidnapped!_

"It'll be alright, Rachel." He came quickly to her side, gently touching her arm, exuding confidence. He leaned to whisper in her ear. "Ben will get us out of this."

"No whispering!" the thug ordered, shooting his captives a glare. "Now get in the freakin' car!"

Riley nodded, eyes on Rachel.

Silently thanking God for the man at her side, Rachel climbed into the car.

* * *

As the big, bald, burly bad guy cranked up his big, black car, Riley found himself thinking, _What would Ben do?_

He glanced at Rachel, who was sitting close beside him, and gently, he took her hand. "How are you feeling?" he asked quietly.

Rachel narrowed her eyes on him, then shook her head. "Kidnapped. I'm feeling kidnapped."

Riley winced. "Yeah?" He glared into the rearview mirror. "Well big, dumb, minions tend to make one feel that way."

To Riley's surprise, the "big, dumb minion" started to laugh. "Hahaha. Hahaha." He shook his head, wiping at his eyes with a big, meaty paw. "You're killin' me, kid." He sighed and placed his hand back on the steering wheel, shaking his head again.

Riley and Rachel exchanged glances. Rachel's eyes were wide and dilated and rife with conflicting emotion--fear, frustration, confusion, excitement… attraction?

Riley tilted his head to the side, studying her smooth features, pretty red hair, rosebud lips…

"Geek boy here thinks he's the only one with a college degree!" the thug spoke up with a chuckle, obviously addressing Rachel. "Well don't let anyone tell you Victor Dylan doesn't have a college degree." He laughed again, clearly pleased with himself.

Riley couldn't help it. He had to take the big man down, David-style. "So… Which degree do you have, my fellow geek boy? Your Bachelor's in Kidnapping? Or maybe just an Associate's in Thug-ology?"

Dylan rolled his eyes. "Neither, doofus. I have a Bachelor's in--" He growled, suddenly realizing he had been baited. "Shut your mouth, little man, or I'm gonna bust it."

"Fine." Riley couldn't resist getting the last word.

The kidnapper glared at him in the rearview mirror, knuckles shifting and whitening on the steering wheel.

"Riley…" Rachel's soft whisper held a cautioning note, and her hand clenched around his.

"Fine," Riley muttered again, much more quietly this time. He settled deeper in the seat, resolved to keep his sarcasm under control--and to keep the girl beside him safe.

* * *

Ben pulled back reluctantly from his wife, beaming inside, while trying to remain outwardly calm and smooth. "So…"

"So…?" She leaned back from him slightly, looking at him sideways, and her eyes were twinkling.

"So maybe we should bring the good news to Riley and Rachel," Ben suggested, not able to hold off a smile.

"That's an excellent idea." Abi tapped his nose with her forefinger, grinning, then turned from him and walked toward the motel room door.

For a moment, Ben just stood there, watching her walk. He imagined that it wouldn't be long before she started walking like a pregnant woman, waddling like a duck. The thought made his smile widen. She would be so cute waddling around in maternity clothes, little Theodore Gates making his presence known… Or maybe little Martha Gates…

"Ben, where's Riley?"

Abigail's worried voice and uneasy expression yanked Ben out of paternal daydreams. "Pardon?"

"Where's Riley?" Abi was peering through the peephole, frowning. "And that redheaded girl? Rachel."

"They should be right outside." Ben's long legs carried him in a few easy strides to the door. He opened it a crack, peering out cautiously and keeping his body between Abi and the opening. An edgy feeling settled in his stomach. Something wasn't right…

The parking lot was empty of people.

"The black car," Ben murmured, his heart clenching with dread.

"What!?" asked Abigail sharply.

Ben quickly closed the door and locked it, spinning around to face his wife. "Abi, Rachel was being followed, by a big black car."

"I know she was being followed, but--" Abi's eyes widened. "Do you think they followed her here?"

"And kidnapped her and Riley?" Ben's face was grim. "That's exactly what I think."

* * *

"What's the point of all this?" Riley asked, as he was led through the woods by Victor Dylan, the college-educated thug with the gun.

"I told you. Money," Dylan snapped. He shoved the limbs of a tree out of his way.

Rachel could see anger and tension written all over the man's body language. As she walked beside Riley, she tried to catch his attention, tried to warn him that their captor was about to lose his temper.

"Who are you--?"

Rachel tugged hard on Riley's arm. "Riley." She shook her head emphatically.

Something in Riley's posture softened, and abruptly, he put his arm around her shoulders.

Rachel closed her eyes and leaned into him, suddenly weary. She was so glad he was there… even if he didn't know when to stop talking.

"We're gonna be alright, Rachel," Riley whispered to her, leaning his head briefly against hers. "Ben will find us."

Ahead of them, Dylan laughed harshly.

Rachel's breath caught in her throat. Had the kidnapper heard?

"We're counting on your old pal Ben," Dylan chuckled, grinning cruelly at Riley. "As soon as he knows we've got the two of you--"

Riley suddenly stopped walking, eyes wide, pulling Rachel to a halt beside him. "You want him to lead you to the treasure."

"Bingo, geek boy." Dylan turned to face his captives. "Knew you'd figure it out sooner or later." He waved his gun. "Now come on. We're almost there."

Rachel frowned as she and Riley continued to follow Dylan through the forest, underbrush crunching beneath their feet. How did Dylan and his unnamed employer know about the treasure? And how did they know Ben Gates was seeking it?

"Here we are, kids." Dylan stopped walking at the edge of a dark clearing. "Your new home away from home." He motioned to his captives. "Chick--you go first."

Rachel froze, an unpleasant shiver tingling up her spine. "M-me?" she squeaked.

"No, Kirsten Dunst." The thug rolled his eyes. "You see any other red-headed chicks out here?"

Clenching her teeth, Rachel stepped out of Riley's protective embrace and instantly felt cold and threatened. As she walked toward Dylan, she took a quick glance at Riley, eyes wide. He looked back at her steadily, gave her a quick nod. She turned back around to face Dylan, whose hand shot out to close around her upper arm.

"Through there," Dylan growled, shoving her into the clearing.

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dark, but Rachel quickly ascertained that she was standing in front of a ramshackle two-story house, built of plain, gray wood. It looked absolutely creepy, like something from a scary movie… She glanced over her shoulder at the big thug, who stood leering at her.

"You… want me to go in there?" she asked quietly.

"Just step up on the porch and wait for me and your boyfriend," Dylan instructed her.

She glanced at the gun in his hand. If only he didn't have that… If only _she _had that…

"Don't even think about it, sweetheart." Dylan gave her an appraising look. "Try anything, and your little boyfriend gets blasted."

"I'm not--not gonna try anything," Rachel stammered, surprised and frightened that he had read her so well. She turned to walk toward the porch.

"Hang on a second." Dylan's sudden, ominous tone stopped Rachel in her tracks. "I forgot to search you."

_Oh no… My cell phone… _Rachel bit her lip in frustration.

Dylan was swiftly at her side. "Got any pockets?" he asked, roughly yanking at the sleeves of her jacket.

"Yes," Rachel bit out, motioning to the pockets of her jacket and jeans.

"Hey," Riley spoke up, stepping into the clearing. "Easy there, man."

Dylan ignored the younger man, roughly searching Rachel's pockets. He quickly located the cell phone and jerked it out of her jeans pocket. "Aha!" He brandished it in front of Rachel's face, grinning maliciously. "What have we here? Thought you'd sneak this one by me, did you?"

Rachel couldn't help it. All the pent up frustration and anger and fear inside her came bubbling out in the form of sarcasm. "Well it's not like I _planned _on being kidnapped by some big ugly mug, is it?" As soon as the words were out, her eyes widened, and her breath shortened in a tiny, terrified gasp.

Dylan snarled, flinging the phone out into the woods. Then he drew back his hand, glaring murderously at the red-haired girl.

Rachel cringed and shut her eyes, bracing herself for a slap.

The slap never came.

"Hey! Don't even think about it!" Riley shouted.

Rachel opened her eyes, horrified. "Riley--"

"Didn't your mom ever teach you not to hit a lady?" Riley was suddenly between Rachel and Dylan, glaring up at the larger, older, scarier man.

"Riley--" Rachel gently touched his back, concern for him racing through her.

Dylan didn't say a word. He simply grinned and drew back the hand with the pistol, then let it fly, cracking Riley across the jaw. The younger man gasped in pain, his head snapping back. He started to stagger, but Dylan quickly yanked him back on his feet, then jabbed him roughly in the stomach with the barrel of the pistol. Riley's breath left him in a choking gasp, and he doubled over, then slowly folded to his knees.

For a few brief and terrible seconds, Rachel stood transfixed, staring at the villain standing before her, the villain laughing coldly. Then her eyes found their way to Riley, who was rocking forward on the ground, wrapping his arms tightly around his body.

"Riley!" Rachel cried, dropping to her knees beside him. She swiftly draped an arm around his shoulders, her fingers straying subconsciously to run through his dark hair. "Are you alright?"

"I'll be fine," he gasped out.

Rachel glared up at their kidnapper. "You didn't have to do that," she snapped, hoping all her rage and disgust was plain on her face.

Dylan shrugged. "Nope. Didn't have to. But I wanted to." He looked up at the eerie old house. "Get him up. We're going inside."

Rachel quickly turned her attentions to Riley. Gently, she touched his face, wincing empathetically at the sight of a nasty bruise on his jaw. "Can you get up?" she asked him softly.

He nodded, not meeting her eyes. "I think so. I've been through worse."

"Worse?" Rachel raised an eyebrow, sliding her shoulder under his arm.

"Yeah." Riley grunted as Rachel pushed and pulled him to his feet. "Power outage that lasted three days."

In spite of herself, Rachel grinned. "That was worse than being kidnapped and pistol whipped?"

"Much," said Riley bravely.


	6. Kidnapped and Nicely Scented

CHAPTER SIX

Riley managed a weak smile at Rachel as they were herded into the ramshackle old house. He held one hand under his jacket, pressed lightly against his throbbing stomach. With the other hand, he reached up and felt the right side of his jaw. It felt slightly swollen, but not as bad as he had thought it would be.

_Maybe this luck will hold up, Riley. Maybe you'll get out of this mess in one piece. _His eyes once again wondered to Rachel, who was watching Dylan warily. It was _her _he worried about--not himself. He wanted _her _to make it out of this all right.

"Up those stairs." The educated thug waved his pistol toward a curving, unsteady-looking staircase.

Rachel paused at the foot of the stairs, her face illuminated by a beam of moonlight that gleamed down through an upper story window. Her eyes were wide and frightened in the light, though she held her head high, shoulders straight. She looked to her captor. "Really?"

"Go." Dylan's voice was hard and heavy. It left no room for questions.

Still, Rachel looked to Riley.

Riley nodded slowly to her, steadily, hoping to mask the fear and pain broiling beneath his skin.

Rachel blessed him with a teary smile, then started up the stairs, the wood creaking beneath her feet.

"You next, ya little punk," Dylan snapped in Riley's direction.

"Chill, pal." Riley raised a shaky hand, still struggling to keep his calm, and started toward the steps. He began to follow Rachel upward into the darkness, noting inconsequentially the way her hips swung rhythmically as she walked up the stairs.

"I'm up," Rachel called, her voice sounding unnaturally alive in such a dead place as this house. "What--what do you want me to do now?"

"There's a bedroom straight across from the landing," Dylan barked, stalking up the steps right behind Riley. "Go inside and await further instructions."

"Okay," came Rachel's trembling reply.

_Oh, God, please protect her… Give her strength… Preserve her life… _Riley closed his eyes briefly, his heart clenching with fear for Rachel, his stomach muscles clenching in bruising pain.

"Hurry up, punk." Dylan shoved Riley forward.

Riley stumbled and nearly fell, but quickly grabbed onto the sagging railing and pulled himself up, his breath coming in frightened, wounded gasps. He steeled himself, made himself keep going. He had to get to Rachel, had to stay near her and protect her. Finally, he reached the top of the dark staircase. A light flashed in front of him, making him jump.

Dylan chuckled behind him, and Riley realized that the big thug had turned on a flashlight.

"Scared of the light?" Dylan mocked, clearing the stairs.

"Yeah." Riley pushed his glasses up his nose. "Vampirism runs in the family."

Dylan's smirk morphed into a snarl. "You think you're so funny." He gripped Riley's arm tightly and dragged him across the landing. "Well you won't be laughing for long." He yanked the younger man into a doorway across the hall, where Riley could hear Rachel's quick, nervous breathing.

"Riley?" Rachel reached out in the darkness, fingertips brushing Riley's arm.

Dylan swung his light suddenly, illuminating the red-haired girl's pale face and wide green eyes. "Both of you--sit on the bed." He motioned with his pistol toward an iron bed topped by an old box spring mattress.

Riley reached out and grasped Rachel's cold, trembling fingers. He squeezed them tightly, then held them protectively close to his body as he led her across the musty, dusty room to the bed. "Are you all right?" he whispered as they sat on the squeaky mattress.

Rachel looked at him with incredulity in her large, anxious eyes, running her thumb along the side of his hand. "You're the one he hit," she breathed.

_You're the one who matters, _Riley almost replied. But he didn't. He just smiled goofily at her. He reflected that if they hadn't just been kidnapped and if they weren't being watched by an overgrown bully, he might kiss her…

* * *

Ben's cell phone rang suddenly, making him jump. He quickly snatched it out of his pocket, flipped it open, and held it to his ear. "Hello?" he answered a bit breathlessly.

"Benjamin Gates?" came a vague whisper.

"Speaking," said Ben, answering Abi's questioning look with a frown and a shrug.

"Seems you're missing some friends," the husky voice whispered.

Ben's blood suddenly went cold in his veins. "As a matter of fact, I am," he replied, his voice emerging cold, as well.

"I think I've found them."

"Where are they?" Ben bit out, fingers tightening on the phone.

"Ben?" Abi's hand fluttered to his shoulder, her eyes wide and quizzical.

"Safe. For now," the whispering voice answered. "But that could change quite easily."

Anger and fear coursed through the iciness in Ben's veins, mingling with an unpleasant sensation. "What do you want?" he asked in a low, dangerous voice.

Abigail's hand tightened on his shoulder.

"I want the treasure, Ben," the voice whispered. "And you have the map."

* * *

Dylan had just disappeared from the dark bedroom, without a word of explanation, shutting the door behind him. Rachel waited for a few seconds before realizing that she was holding her breath.

"Riley?" she finally breathed.

"It's gonna be okay, Rachel," he replied, his voice both taut and shaky. "Gonna be okay."

Rachel suddenly noticed the way he kept tensing up, the way his fingers tightened convulsively around hers. "Riley… Are you alright?"

"Mmm." His shrug was barely visible in the darkness, but she could feel it.

Rachel's heartbeat sped up. She moved her hand, fingers brushing his chest. His skin felt hot through the thin fabric of his button-up shirt. "Riley, he hit you pretty hard." She gently pressed her hand against his chest, feeling his heartbeat. "Gosh, your heart is beating so fast…"

"'M okay." He gently clasped her wrist and drew her hand back from his heart. "Look, just--just don't worry about me. We need to find a way out of here."

"Right." Rachel bit her lip, feeling highly inadequate for the task at hand. She was an expert at playing the piano, discussing works of fiction, and mixing the perfect specialty coffee, but escapes from psycho kidnappers? Those just weren't on her résumé. "Uhm… Is there a window in this room… do you think…?"

"We can check," Riley replied. He stood slowly, and Rachel thought she saw him wince in the dark. His hand still clung to hers. "Come on."

Together, huddled close, both shivering slightly, they made their way across the dusty wooden floor, swinging their free arms against the dark. Riley pulled ahead of Rachel slightly, reaching further into the darkness.

Then… BANG!

Rachel jumped, and Riley jumped, too, nearly trodding on her feet as he stumbled backward.

"What is it!? What is it!?" Rachel whispered frantically, her voice high-pitched with worry and fear.

Riley let out a brief, breathless chuckle. "It's just--it's just a window." His shoulders seemed to sag as he turned toward her, with relief or exhaustion, she was not sure.

"Oh!" Renewed hope sang through Rachel's veins. "Then we can get out!"

"Don't think so." Riley was suddenly standing very close to her, one hand on her shoulder, almost leaning on her for support. "Window's barred." His breath left him in a shaky sigh, and he leaned his head against hers.

"Oh, no." Rachel's insides trembled. "Oh, Riley." She wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned against his shoulder as he buried his face in her hair, his fingers entangling in the golden-red strands.

They held each other silently for a few moments. And for a split second, Rachel was able to forget that she was a captive, that she was in danger… For a split second, there was nothing but Riley. His arms were warm, his fingers gentle in her hair, and he smelled like spice and masculine soap…

"Your hair smells like apples," Riley murmured, his breath warm against her temple.

Rachel giggled a bit, hysterically. "Thank-you. You smell good, too." She could see Riley's teeth glint white against the darkness.

"Old Spice," he told her proudly.

"Break it up, kids!"

Rachel shuddered instinctively, clutching at Riley's arms as Dylan strode into the room, carrying a flashlight and, of course, his hefty pistol. A brief moment of rage inspired Rachel to imagine pistol whipping the crazy kidnapper with his own weapon, but the rage was soon doused by fear when Dylan aimed the pistol at Riley.

Riley straightened, lifting his chin. Rachel thought he was trying to seem brave, but she could feel his heart beating rapidly and hear his breathing catch slightly.

"What do you want, Dylan?" Riley asked shakily.

"I want you to know that this pistol is so powerful, it could break your wrist if you don't hold it properly when you fire it." Dylan lowered the gun and swaggered further into the room, closer to the couple. "And I'm strong enough and skilled enough to use it. That's the kind of man who holds you captive."

As he walked past the couple, Rachel flinched, moving even closer to Riley. Riley's arms tightened around her, and she was suddenly, poignantly proud of him. He was so much stronger than he seemed, this handsome, nerdish fellow holding her in his arms…

CLANG! Dylan rapped the pistol against the bars on the window. "I know what I'm doing, people." He turned to face Riley and Rachel, turning the flashlight on his self, illuminating the maddened gleam in his eyes. "So don't even think about crossing me." He grinned crookedly. "Resistance is futile."

"Haha. The Borg. Very funny," Riley remarked dryly.

"Figured you'd get the reference, Geek Boy," Dylan replied, seeming pleased with himself.

Rachel could feel Riley's breathing speed up.

"Get _this _reference, Thug Man: If I had a phaser, you'd be in my sights, and it wouldn't be set on stun. Got that, Dylan?"

Rachel winced, her fingers tightening around the fabric of her companion's shirt. "Riley," she cautioned, teeth clenched.

Dylan's face fell visibly in the glow of the flashlight. "Hmf." He glared for a few tense seconds at Riley, then shrugged. "I'm not afraid of you, kid." As he walked back around the couple, he gave Riley a jab in the ribs with the flashlight.

Riley flinched and grunted slightly, but otherwise seemed unfazed.

Dylan snorted, then left the room quietly, the beam of his flashlight swinging wildly as it slowly faded from the room.

Riley sighed audibly then and leaned heavily against Rachel.

"Riley, what were you thinking, baiting him like that?" she chided, clinging to him almost desperately.

"Guy's a jerk," Riley muttered into her hair. "Somebody's gotta teach him a lesson."

"That jerk happens to be our captor--armed, dangerous, and crazy to boot!" Rachel pulled back slightly from Riley and peered up at him, trying to squint through the darkness. "You don't have to prove anything to me," she told him quietly, steadily. "I like you already. And I already know that you're brave and manly and clever."

"Oh." Riley blinked, tilting his head to one side as he looked down at her thoughtfully. "Well. In that case…" He winced, his breath hissing between his teeth, shoulders sagging.

Rachel frowned and reached to touch his face. "Hurts?"

"Yes. Ow!" Riley jerked back from her touch.

"And here, too?" She brushed her fingers against his stomach.

"Yes, yes. There, too." He pushed her hands away.

"Sorry! Sorry!" Rachel bit her lip, feeling dreadful for having worsened his pain. "Well, let's sit down, whaddaya say?"

"Sounds like a plan." Riley managed a weak smile.

Rachel looped her arm through his, and they gingerly made their way back to the creaky old bed.

"Think we'll get out of this alive?" She leaned her head against his shoulder.

"I hope so." He sighed and leaned his head against hers. His fingers inched across the mattress until they found hers and linked with them. "I'm hoping Ben will pull through for us. He's smart like that."

* * *

"Sadusky, I need a favor."

Ben heard the FBI agent sigh on the other end of the line. "It's been a busy day, Ben. Jewel thieves in New York, arsonists in D.C. The eastern seaboard's a mess right now."

"How about kidnappers in the Old North State?" Ben asked wryly. "That sound like fun to you?"

"Kidnappers?"

"Yeah." Ben felt suddenly nauseated. "And they've got Riley."

Sadusky swore. "Are you serious, Ben?"

"As serious as George Washington at Valley Forge," Ben told the other man sincerely. "We were following the trail of a treasure, and it led us here to North Carolina, and we found the map, but… Almost as soon as we did, someone came after us. They got Riley. And they got Rachel."

"Rachel?"

"Rachel Collins," Ben explained. "She's been helping us out. She and Riley were taking a walk, and they just--they took him." He took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. Abigail's hand was suddenly on his shoulder, massaging him, and that made things better. A little. "The kidnappers have contacted us. They don't want police, of course; they want the map. But I thought--I thought maybe we could get Riley and Rachel back on our own terms."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the connection, then, "Uh-huh. I get your drift, Ben. What is it you want me to do?"

"I want you to triangulate the signal of the kidnapper's phone," Ben told him. "I want you to find out where he is… or where they are. I don't know exactly what we're dealing with here. As soon as you let me know where that is, I'll leave you alone. I promise."

Sadusky sighed. "Ben, are you telling me you want to do this alone?"

Ben sighed, his fingers tightening around the cell phone. "I don't know. I… I don't know. I just… I want to do what's best to save Riley." His voice broke a bit, and he steeled himself, fighting to regain composure. "He's my friend, Sadusky. I have to rescue him."

Silence.

Ben held his breath.

Then finally… "I'll see what I can do, Ben."


End file.
